The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-01-05
OUR THANKSGIVING.

THANKSGIVING mornings lad come - with
fresh, frolcking winds and sunlight, and
blue si:ieS; with merry voices, with cloudloSS
faces AMI happy hearts.
remember just how yellow and mui'ky
the sunshine lay Oh the floors that morning,
and how thought the wind walled about
the corners of the housc-to me it had no
frolic. The children came in from play while
I was at work, al flushed and eager, and
happy, jostliag and pushing each other good
naturctlly i'll the entry.
Dinner time came at last and they gathered
round the table glceful!y-just us Gleefully, l
thought, with half bitterness, as if they
had oil been there.
"lvhy, what's this for!" asked Harry,
stopping. Mother, you've got one chair too
many.
"Iiush, Harry--I know-Gont you see"
and then Lncy finished her sentence i'll a
whisper.
Why had | done it; hardly knew. To
lay the plates and set the chairs, and pass
that one plate by-tEat place that always
was Ey minc--it seemed hard. 1t was a very
little thing; but you know how dear these
little things become to women sometimes
So had put it there-tho empty chair;
and with its pitiful, appealing blanknesS be-
side me, set down to the festival meal.
remember Just how everything looked, as III
p;cturc-riy husbands face, with its peace
full smile, ard the children grouped around in
the old places; and tleck of yellow sunlight
that had fallen i'll through the warm south
window upon the table cloth. | remember
everything. l know that John had just
bowel his head to Gsi blessing on our food,
and the chi,dren's eyes were closed, when
saw-I saw as distinctly as / see this paper
upon which write the wort's-a shadow fall
across the empty chair.
turned my head, and saw him, my dead
boy Willie. know it was Willie. You need
not doubt me, for tell you l cannot be mis-
taken. Should not l know him, l, his
motlerl looked deep, deep into his eyes. l
saw the old, rare smile; touched his own
bright curls upon his forehead; l spoke to
him; lie spoke to NE.
"Willie.r
"Mother!"
The voice was breathlcss, but it was bis.
"Willie! Willie"
Again the old, rare smile With ono hand
be motione,l silence His fathers voice hustled
the amen, and the children looked up and
began their chatter.
"Dii you speak to me, Mary:" asked my
husband.
"No"
"Why, thought some one spoke during
the blessing"
So they did not see him. alone was
chosen looked into his face, smiling, sInil-
ing down into mine so tendcrly-you cannot
know how tendcrly; but III lis eyes saw
and thought my heart would break to see
it-a certain, sad, rcrroachful look, that
had caught on his face once, years ago, when
l accused him Of injustice of some triliing,
childish fault--a look that had haunted me
in many a still hour since. And thcn heard
hin say distinctly. though to not another
ear was the breathcss voice audible:
Il want them to be happy. want you to
enjoy the day. Dill you think l should not
be with you, mothcr!'
He was with me, thank God, and l was
happy. I talked, laughed, 1 chatted with
the children; their mcrrimcnt increased with
mine; my husbands pale face lighted up;
felt my own eyes sparkling. And all the
while. where they saw only that empty chair,
saw the beautiful, still face and happy
smile. l saw him pleased with the Old Ia
niiiar customs. l saw him mindful of the
chillrpn'S jests. l saw his eyes full of their
own home love, trrn from one to another
and bac!; again to me-I saw ard was con
tent. All that day he was beside me. He
followed us into the sitting room and took his
old scat by the coy fire. He listened to his
fathers stories and watched the children at
their games, and joined Us when we gathered
alound the piano for our twilight song. l
heard his voice: the children asked what
made lie sine SO clearly